


A Collection of Snippy Snippets

by orphan_account



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Drabbles, Gen, M/M, Snippets, Twincest, Underage - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-09
Updated: 2013-10-12
Packaged: 2017-12-28 22:07:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/997492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of short snippets of the Wes/Charles variety, ranging from the sweet and the fluffy to the angsty and the smutty (as well as anything in between).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Summary:** Something playful becomes something decidedly not.

\--

"I'm going to die."

"Oh, don't be so dramatic. It's just one test," Charles tuts, looking up through his eyelashes as Wesley slumps even further into the couch. "Mr. O'Connell said you could make it up next wednesday."

Unwilling to listen to reason, Wesley pouts further, glaring down at Charles who lays belly down on the floor, still clad in his school uniform. He's studying, of course - such a dedicated little know-it-all.

"That's easy for you to say, you always get perfect grades. If the roles were reversed you'd be locked up in a bathroom somewhere crying your eyes out, admit it." He's being bit of a dick, he knows that, but the urge to bring Charles down a notch or two is prevalent in his mind.

He watches as Charles sighs, snapping his book shut and rising to his knees- pale, knobby things that peek out from beneath his shorts. "What's this really about, Wes? You're being abnormally dire for someone who usually cares little for his grades." Charles hesitates, expression growing awkward. "Is this about what Mother said the other night? Because it's not true you know, not a word of it."

Wesley barely restrains from rolling his eyes. He hasn't cared a wit about what their mother has had to say about him for years now, and in regards to what she said the other night - it wasn't anything he didn't know already. Wesley knows he'll never be as good as Charles, as bright or as smart, but he's got other things going for him despite Mum's proclamation of his impending failure in life. 

He's just yet to figure out what those things are, that's all. 

No, today's dour mood is of quite a different nature. Glancing over at Charles, he groans quietly at the worry he sees in his brother's eyes. Feeling somewhat stiff in his current position, he rearranges his legs so they're flung over the back of the couch, reclining back on the cushions while his head lolls slightly off the edge. The odd angle relieves the crick in his neck, much to his pleasure. 

"I kissed Lola Perventte today," he finally says, finding some amusement in Charles' upside-down expression as it morphs from worry to incredulity.

"What?!" Charles cries, and then more quietly as if someone might overhear, "You're only telling me this now?"

Wesley shrugs, leaveing it at that.

"Well.. how was it? You've had a crush on her for ages." Ah. And there it is. Wesley takes a deep breath.

"It sucked," he deadpans. "It really, really sucked. Like, it was awful. Her braces cut my lip, I could tell my breath was horrible, there was saliva everywhere it was just--just a big, gigantic suckfest." He crosses his arms over his chest in a huff, the disappointment and mortification he'd felt at the time rearing it's ugly head again the moment he started talking about it.

"Oh dear, that does sound quite, um, horrible," Charles says, and Wesley can tell just from his tone alone that he's trying hard not to laugh. He attempts to glare, but the twitching of Charles mouth as it refuses to smile renders him incapable of any resentment.

His own mouth quirks at the corners and apparently that's his brother's breaking point as he begins to howl with laughter.

"Shut up, alright," Wesley laughs, "It was my first kiss, it was supposed to be perfect and special and all that other bullshit you read."

Charles tries to quiet himself, but he's still chuckling when he says, "Maybe the second kiss will be better."

"Doubt it," Wesley snorts, beginning to feel a little dizzy with all the blood rushing to his head in this position, "I'd be surprised is she ever talks to me again."

"Well then, how about this," Charles says, and Wesley lifts an enquiring brow as his brother crawls closer. "I can't guarantee Lola will ever speak to you again, but I can promise that your second kiss won't be a complete disaster."

"And how do you suppose to guarantee that?" Wesley asks, his voice amused but soft - like he already knows the answer. Charles smiles, small and bright, close enough that Wesley can see the underside of his jaw as he leans down, a hand coming up to cradle the back of Wesley's head for support.

It's a gentle brush, feather-light and intimate - Charles' top lip a pleasant pressure just on the underside of Wesley's mouth while his bottom lip fits warm and snug where Wesley's mouth parts. It feels-- It feels good, and for a stupid, daring moment, Wesley opens his lips slightly wider, darting his tongue out to lap at Charles' plump bottom lip.

It's a mistake. Charles squeaks and pulls away, swiftly, leaving Wesley blinking for one horrifying moment before he quickly scrambles up, fighting to sit upright so he'll be more capable of handling the fallout.

The fallout is quiet, no yelling, no screaming, no accusations, just Charles on his knees - blue eyes wide, breath heavy, fingers lightly brushing his mouth - and Wesley realising that he doesn't mind the sight.

\--


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Summary:** Aristocats AU

\--

The banks of the river were slippery, almost impossible for two small kittens to dig their claws in and raise themselves up - the icy rain only making the effort harder still. Somehow, Wesley and Charles managed to persevere, nudging each other up when their paws slipped on the slick grass, meowing encouragements to one another under the sound of the storm's din above them and the rushing of the river below.

Eventually they reached a plateau, a path of sorts, Charles head butting Wes' hind until he was able to scramble up, quickly using his tail to help drag Charles' up after him. They collapsed on top of each other then, their exhausted limbs unable to hold them up much longer and so they curled close and tried to protect each other as best they could from the fat droplets of rain spilling from the skies.

They mewled softly to one another, tired, confused and so terribly lost. They longed for the warmth of their Master's arms and that of a banked fire; the pleasure of nails dragging through their fur and the luxury of their cushions and saucers of cream.

They were spoiled kittens, they knew, but they tried to repay that generosity to Raven with as much love as they could. Other humans seemed to shy away from her for reasons neither brother understood, but they could tell it made her so deeply happy when they never hesitated to rub their heads against her outstretched hand, the blue scales always affording for a wonderful, rough scratch that always got them purring - and never failed to make her smile.

Wesley and Charles loved her as much as their tiny bodies could, only ever left enough to devote to each other (as any visitor would attest to - Wesley either attempting to claw their eyes out or Charles perching himself on some high surface and ignored them entirely) and yet, here they were: drenched to the bone, their bellies and paws caked in mud - their once pristine white fur and brown socked feet completely soiled.

"Was it not enough?" Wesley asked weakly, still remembering Toad's taunting eyes as he tossed them over the bridge, sack and all. Wesley had never liked him, hissing at him at his leisure, but he'd proved loyal to their Master and had followed her every word down to the letter and therefore Wesley had allowed him to stay.

But that was it - he only ever followed Raven's orders.

Charles stayed silent for awhile before slowly rising to his paws, nudging Wes with his nose to do the same.

"I think I see some shelter," was all he said, and waited for Wesley to join him on all four paws before they scampered towards Charles' find, side by side.

Their shelter turned out to be and overturned cart of some sort, and while water dripped between boards and there was very little light but for the flash of lightening above it served it's purpose well enough of keeping them dry. They shook out their fur, and groomed each other as best they could in the little light they had, lapping at faces and paws until they were doing more damage then good before settling down on the dry earth, snuggling up to one another for the solidarity and comfort of the other's company just as much for the warmth.

"It was probably just a mistake," Charles says quietly. 

"Maybe," he replies. It's not the reply his brother is look for, but Wes can't make himself outright lie. He hopes but he doesn't believe. To compensate he licks Charles' ear lovingly.

They fall asleep to the pitter patter of a rain just beginning to let up and the sound of each other's breath stirring their fur.

Dawn breaks in a matter of hours, the sky is clear, the river is calm - and 30 miles away a woman with blue skin and flaming red hair is tearing apart her mansion from the inside out in search of the kittens she has woken up to pawing at her face every morning for the last 6 months except this one.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Summary:** Plot what Plot?

\--

Wesley’s hands grasp Charles’ thighs as they tremble through orgasm, his fingertips stroking gently, comfortingly, as his brother’s flesh quivers beneath his touch.

He’s still hard, unbearably so, but when Charles winces slightly in discomfort as Wesley gives an experimental thrust forward, all motivation of continuing in this fashion abandons him. He slips out slowly, grunting in pleasure with that motion alone, the warm clench of Charles’ body always perfect no matter what way Wesley moves.

"Sorry," Charles mumbles, eyelids falling to half mast as he watches Wesley take himself in hand, squeezing himself with a harsh grip.

"Shh," Wesley shushes, "Don’t be." He doubles over, thrusting into his hand as he nuzzles his face just beneath the slight curve of Charles’ belly, traces a line with his lips to a charmingly fleshy hip, nipping lightly before sucking a wet, open mouthed kiss when Charles’ smacks him weakly upside the head. 

Wesley beats himself off leisurely, in no immediate hurry with Charles so warm and close and satisfied, but he can feel his orgasm approaching - the hiccup in his breath, his strokes breaking rhythm - and just maybe Charles knows it too, because he pushes Wesley away, his thighs spreading wider.

"Here," Charles states nodding down to where his hand is smoothing over his stomach, "Right here." 

Wesley blinks, stupefied for a moment until Charles' words catch up with him, and then all he can do is groan like the sound is being pulled from him, his hand working his cock faster and faster and the last thing he sees before his vision whites out is his brother, his Charles - smiling contently, body arching up in preparation for Wesley to splatter his stomach in white.

\--


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Summary:** The morning after.

\--

Wesley collects his clothes from the bedroom floor and dresses slowly, quietly. He keeps his back turned to the bed, eyes diverted from the suggestion of tangled sheets and sleep-warm pillows. He supposes he ought to feel shamed or disgusted at the acts that have taken place, the sins that have been committed. 

He should worry that he feels none of those things. 

He's more worried about the fact that he's not worrying.

He finds Charles in the kitchen, sitting, his fingers tapping a nervous rhythm on the tabletop as he stares blandly out the window, a cup of tea, cold and untouched, cradled in his other hand. If Wesley focuses, he can spy a faint red mark nestled just beneath his brother's jaw, unobtrusive and neat and only partially hidden by the wrap of a thick blue scarf. Wesley stares without quite meaning to.

Charles hasn't noticed him yet leaning in the doorway, so he clears his throat to draw attention. 

Yesterday, Charles leant easily into Wesley's side as they shopped for groceries at the local market - today he flinches at Wesley's very presence. He attempts to cover it up with a warm smile but it's tepid at most, and after a few moments of silence he lets the crooks of his lips fall into something more passive and neutral. It's devastating, really, and Wesley is unsure which he wants to do more, cry or punch him - because even when he's confused and unsure: Charles is still so beautiful.

Charles opens his mouth twice, as if to speak, but he fails to utter a word. Finally, he casts his eyes back out the window and takes a deep breath.

"Last night, what, what happened.." Charles shakes his head, gazes sternly out into the murky sky,"I think we can both agree that it was a mistak-."

"I love you," Wesley interrupts, and while there is natural love between brothers he knows his intent has been made clear.

Charles closes his eyes at Wesley's words, an expression of resignation overcoming his features as if that was the very answer he had been dreading, the final nail in the coffin. 

"It would've been better had you loved me less," Charles whispers, and Wesley can't refute that.

\--


End file.
